Homecoming
by Jacinda
Summary: Woody comes back to Boston after 5 years in Milwaukee to find that everything has changed since he left (Told from Woody's POV) (WJ Pairing) FIN
1. Fairytale Ending

If I had known the ending was going to be so bad, I would have never opened the book. I reasoned this about my life several times. Today, I needed to take a cold hard look at where I was and what I had become. The storybook ending I worked to create was nothing more than a disaster. There would be no prince and there would be no princess. I would go home to an empty apartment; well, she would do the same, but without the added burden of having him as a boyfriend.

Two hours earlier, I found myself on bended knee offering up a diamond ring and my heart. It was about time I reasoned; we had been dating seriously for the better part of two years. I felt ready; it was the first time in a long time that I felt ready to let another woman in to my heart.

Sara smiled at me and gently shook her head. She said that she could never replace the woman I called out for in my sleep. I wanted to argue that she could at least make me momentarily forget, but I knew that would never be good enough for Sara. I knew that would never be good enough for any other woman. I paused to ponder which woman I called out for . . . the one that left me or the one that I never really had. I imagined it was probably the latter; it was always the latter. Sara got up from the table of the restaurant and quickly left leaving me frozen on my knee. I could hear the chatter around me; a lady at the table next to mine asked if I was going to be okay. The waitress felt so sorry for me that she said the meal would be on the house. I gathered my coat and quickly left the restaurant; I wondered how many women turn down men in their most vulnerable moment. I wondered how unique my situation was.

I left Boston five years ago. It wasn't too long after Devan died; I could never seem to get past her death. I didn't have many options in Boston. I would always love a woman I could never have and I would always feel badly for using Devan to replace Jordan. The guilt was enough to make me feel like I was going insane. Within two weeks, I had packed up my apartment and disappeared without a trace. I found myself in Milwaukee. It was close to home; it was close to the cemetery where my family rested. It didn't feel anywhere close to being my home. _Home is right behind you. _I wondered where the hell home was.

I worked as a homicide detective in a city that needed few detectives. The murders were simple . . . drug and gang stuff. Inside of two years, I had been promoted the lead detective in the department. The promotion was bittersweet since there was no one to celebrate it with. Until I found Sara, she was like a breath of fresh air. She was a kindergarten teacher; she was a red head . . . well, it was strawberry blonde. She was tall and slender; Sara didn't look like any of the Midwestern girls I grew up with, but then again I had changed so much from the chubby boy I had once been. I thought I loved Sara, but maybe I had used her to replace Devan and Jordan. Sara was a good girl and I had hurt her.

I still kept an eye on Boston. I would occasionally call Eddie; he was the only person that knew where I was. He would tell me about Jordan, Nigel, Garrett, Bug, and Lily. Those were the only people that I really cared to hear about. Jordan had a four year old daughter, Calleigh. Nigel was the father, but Eddie commented that the child never really looked like Nigel. Calleigh's features were much lighter and much softer. I sighed; Jordan had used sex as a means of solving cases before. I hoped that she hadn't went back to her old ways. Nigel was a doting father. Jordan and Nigel hadn't married; life had become too hectic after Max died and left them the Pogue to run. Eddie sent me a newspaper article. The Pogue was named the best Irish pub in Boston; Nigel and Jordan stood hand in hand behind the bar. They smiled. She looked beautiful; she looked happy. I wondered if she looked beautiful when she was pregnant; I knew she probably did.

Bug and Lily had gotten married three years ago. I sent a card. Eddie sent me the newspaper clipping. It was another event that I had missed. Garrett was still Garrett, but he had begun teaching classes at one of the local universities. Eddie said that he had become a good teacher . . . after a little prodding from Jordan. The clippings brought back so many memories. They made me smile. Sara often asked about the clippings; she asked about the people. She even talked about us going to Boston to meet my 'friends;' I told her that they weren't really friends anymore. Sara looked confused. She didn't know that I ran from them in the middle of the night. She didn't know that I never said good-bye. A friend wouldn't leave like that.

"Hoyt, is that you?" Eddie asked. He sounded groggy; I had forgotten that it was one in the morning in Boston.

"Eddie, I want to come back to Boston," I said. There was a slight falter to my voice; I hoped he wouldn't notice.

"There's a position in homicide . . . you'd only take that if you were a masochist," Eddie commented. I knew that taking that position would involve working with Jordan again. I didn't know if that was what I wanted, but right now, Boston felt like home and I really wanted to go home.

"I'll take it. I can be out there within the week," I replied.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asked. He sounded shocked and remarkably more awake. I had never told him about Milwaukee; he never asked. He probably thought that I had the fairytale; Eddie had no idea that I was standing in the ruins.

"I'm sure," I replied.

"Give me a call when you get into Boston. Wait . . . do you want me to see if I can find you an apartment?" Eddie said. He must have been desperate to get me out there; the person vacating my position must have been a complete disaster.

"I'll take just about anything in the eight hundred dollar range," I commented.

"Well, big spender . . . I'll see what I can do. Call me on Tuesday. I'll have more information for you by then," Eddie replied.

"Thanks," I replied as I hung up my phone. I pulled the boxes out of my hallway closest. I began to back up things that I thought were important enough to go to Boston with me. It didn't matter that it was midnight. It didn't matter that I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I just wanted to go home.


	2. Calleigh

I hadn't remembered the Pogue ever being that full. I immediately saw Garrett sitting on a bar stool talking to the barmaid. Eddie was sitting in the corner. He waved me over.

"Uncle Garrett, Uncle Garrett, look at what Mommy did to my hair," a little girl yelled as she ran out from one of the back rooms. I froze to take her in. She had beautiful chestnut brown hair that fell in curls down her back. She had soft features and high cheekbones. Her eyes danced when she talked. She had the most beautiful, striking honey colored eyes. I stood speechless as Garrett hoisted her up on his lap, so the little girl could finish her story. I quickly walked over to the table so people wouldn't realize that I was staring.

"That's Calleigh. She'll make her way over here soon enough. She knows that I have a birthday present for her," Eddie said as I sat down.

"She looks a lot like Jordan," I said. I couldn't help, but to smile at the little girl talking to Dr. Macy.

"She does. Jordan's a good mother . . . things have been tough since Max died," Eddie commented.

"Calleigh, you need to go find Eddie. Remember, he wanted to see you," I could hear Jordan say. She looked beautiful. She looked more beautiful than I ever remembered. With those comments, Garrett set Calleigh back on the ground. The little girl made a beeline for our table. The instant Calleigh reached us, she started asking Eddie a million questions about catching bad guys and if she could hold his badge. Eddie more than happily let the little girl hold his badge.

"Who are you?" Calleigh said as she examined me.

"I'm a friend of Eddie's," I replied. I knew it wouldn't be fair to say that I was a friend of Jordan's or Nigel's.

"Are you a cop too?"

"I'm a cop too," I replied. Calleigh smiled. She seemed to like that. Eddie gave her a birthday present. He had gotten her her very own badge . . . although it was a fake one. Calleigh was thrilled; she threw her arms around Eddie's neck. I wondered when Eddie and Jordan had become such good friends. They had spent most of their time at odds. They had often fought about Eddie's treatment of Max. I wondered what changed.

"Princess, Mom needs you to go get ready to go home," Nigel said. I startled when I heard his voice; he was standing right behind me.

"I don't want to, Daddy. I want to stay by Uncle Eddie," Calleigh pouted.

"Your mother will have my hide and yours if you don't," Nigel said. Calleigh seemed to understand; she unwillingly slid off Eddie's lap and marched back to Uncle Garrett . . . then off to find Jordan. She had a flare for the dramatic much like Jordan always did.

"I hope that Calleigh wasn't bothering you . . . Gods knows she's a little more of a social belle than Jordan and I can handle," Nigel said with a sigh, "I'm afraid that she would walk off with just about anyone . . . this is the one time that I wished she was a little more like her mother."

Eddie laughed. I laughed too.

"Nigel, you remember Detective Hoyt," Eddie said. I turned to see the color drain from his face. He mouth was slightly open and he was speechless.

"Nigel, you have a beautiful daughter," I said as I stuck out my hand to shake his hand. Nigel still looked like he had seen a ghost.

"You're back," Nigel replied. I self-consciously pulled my hand away.

"I'm back," I replied.

"Nigel, I need to get going. Tell Jordan that everything is ready for Calleigh's surprise party tomorrow. Abby is ecstatic about seeing Calleigh . . . I think that's the only thing Abby has been excited about in a long time. I keep on telling her to babysit for your spitfire before she gets pregnant," Garrett said. He turned to leave, but stopped once he saw me.

"Dr. Macy," I said. I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. I didn't dare say more.

"You stay the hell away from Jordan," Garrett said before he turned on his heel and walked off.

"Woodrow, she's rebuilt her life . . . don't hurt her again," Nigel replied as he shook his head. He walked away without another word. I hadn't meant to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her. I thought that maybe I was doing her a favor by not being here to hurt her.

The table was silent for a moment.

"Thank you so much for getting Calleigh a birthday present. You know you don't have to do that," Jordan said as she sat next to Eddie. She looked like she stopped breathing when she saw me. She looked at me with her mouth slightly agape. I was surprised that everyone I had come back to Boston to see ended up walking right up to me.

"Jordan, how are you?" I asked. It sounded like an awkward thing to say; so many years had passed and so many things had changed.

"You're back," Jordan replied. I didn't answer my question.

"Hey, Jo . . . you going to be okay?" Eddie asked as he nudged her a little bit. He wrapped an arm around her. I wondered why everyone had suddenly become so damn protective of her. I wondered when I became the enemy.

"Yeah, Eddie, I'm going to be okay. Do you mind staying and closing with me? Nigel is going to take Calleigh home. I'm not too comfortable being alone here after the robbery last week," Jordan said. She looked like she was pleading with him. I had never seen her look so vulnerable; I knew her reasons. She didn't want to leave her daughter as her mother left her.

"Can't tonight . . . gotta work. You want me to send an officer by to watch you walk out?" Eddie asked.

"I can stay . . . we have a lot to catch up on," I said. Jordan looked at me funny; she moved a little closer to Eddie.

"Jordan, he carries a gun . . . you can identify him in a line up if he pulls anything stupid," Eddie said trying desperately to joke. Anything to break up the tension at the table.

"I don't know if Nigel would think it was a good idea," Jordan replied. I wondered when she had become so passive.

"Jo, I'm a phone call away if Woody does anything to piss you off . . . you don't have to talk to him. He can sit in the corner," Eddie said trying to negotiate some terms.

"I guess . . . Lily and Bug have Lamaze tonight . . . Nigel has Calleigh . . . Garrett . . . well, he couldn't hit the side of a barn with a cannon," Jordan said trying to come up with as many reasons as possible why it was a good idea. I was surprised that she needed to work so hard to make it even sound like a plausible idea.

"Jo, you call me if Hoyt gives you a hard time. I have to get going. I promised Calleigh that I would catch some bad guys for her," Eddie said. It made Jordan smile.

"You talked me into it . . . just make sure you catch the bad guys or Calleigh will give you hell," Jordan said as she slid out of the booth to let Eddie leave. She hugged him; he whispered something her ear. She nodded.

"Watch her," Eddie said, "Make sure to be on time on Monday."

"Mommy, Daddy and I are going home. Daddy wants to know if you want him to wait up," Calleigh said as she ran up to Jordan. Jordan kneeled down to adjust the hat and mittens on the little girl.

"Tell Daddy to put a plate of leftovers out for me. You, be good for Daddy. I love you so much, sweetie," Jordan said as she pulled her daughter into a fierce hug. Calleigh pulled away and kissed Jordan on the cheek.

"I'm going to be good, Mommy. Daddy said that he was going to read me a book and that we could have hot chocolate," Calleigh replied. I was surprised that how much that girl could talk . . . talking definitely wasn't one of Jordan's strong suits.

"I wish I could be there. Daddy's waiting. I'll see you in the morning," Jordan said as she readjusted Calleigh's winter clothes once more.

"Good night, love. I'll see you when you get home," Nigel said as he kissed Jordan on the cheek. It wasn't a kiss I expected from two people that had a child together. I suddenly had a sick feeling; the night was so many years ago, but I could remember it like it was yesterday. I remember going to the morgue in the wee hours the morning on the day after Devan's funeral. The morgue was empty; Jordan had volunteered to work that evening. She said she needed something to get Devan off her mind. I remember going into her office. I'm not sure which one of us broken down first, but I remember holding her tightly against me. I remember making love to her on that tiny leather couch in her office. I remembered everything about her. I remember feeling so horrified that I took advantage of her; I left Boston a week later. I stole away in the night like any other coward would. I wondered if it could possibly be . . . I reassured myself that it couldn't possibly be an option. I reasoned that Jordan would have let me know.

"Good night, Nige," Jordan replied as she waved to her daughter. It was only eight o'clock; the bar wouldn't close for another six hours. Jordan already looked like she was dead on her feet. She must have worked today . . . came straight from the morgue to her second full-time job. Jordan said down on the bench.

"She's beautiful," I commented.

"She is . . . she's my world," Jordan replied, "Why are you back?"

She wasn't going to mince words this time.

"I thought it was about time I came home," I replied. I didn't want to get into a messy explanation about Sara . . . about Milwaukee . . . about how I apparently called out for her in my sleep.

"Things have changed, Woody . . . a lot has changed," Jordan replied.

"You and Nigel?" I asked. I wanted to know.

"You could say that . . . it's complicated, Woody," Jordan replied as she looked down at the table. I didn't want to ask her directly if she was living a lie, but I had to know.

"Are you happy?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"I guess . . . I'm just busy. I'm a mom . . . barkeep . . . carpool mom . . . assistant chief medical examiner . . . Nigel takes care of most of the stuff at home. He loves Calleigh like she's his own," Jordan replied. Exhaustion must have caused that slip.

"He's not the father?" I asked.

"He's not the father . . . my daughter needed a father . . . I needed someone to rely on. Nigel wanted to be there . . . you sure as hell haven't," Jordan replied raising her voice enough for some of the people sitting around us to look our way. I had been right.

"I'm sorry," I replied.

"How the hell was I supposed to find you? You just slunk off into the night leaving me . . . I went through nine months of hell trying to find you," Jordan hissed at me.

"I'm here now," I replied. It sounded so inadequate.

"So what? You weren't here when I needed you . . . you have no claim to my daughter. As far as anyone is concerned, Calleigh is Nigel's. She has the best father I could hope for," Jordan replied, "You should go . . . I can close up by myself."

"I promised Eddie," I replied.

"Just go," Jordan said as she stood up and walked away. She was right that I had no claim to Calleigh. The little girl seemed perfectly content loving Nigel as a father. Nigel called her 'princess.' The way he looked at the little girl . . . I could see nothing but love in his eyes. I hadn't thought about the night in a long time; I hadn't stopped to think that I could have gotten Jordan pregnant. I hadn't stopped to think that she might have wanted me to come home years earlier. I would lose a little girl because I had been so self-centered. Home had changed so much . . . she had lied . . . home would never be right behind me again.

I got up and walked out of the bar. The air was crisp and few icy snowflakes floated from the sky to the ground. That little girl was beautiful. I wished I could have studied her features a little bit longer . . . just to see if I was indeed some part of her.


	3. Bar Time

I stood outside the bar. It was two in the morning; I hoped that Jordan would hurry. I was freezing. I pulled my jacket around me a little bit tighter. The snow had begun to fall more fiercely. The wind had begun to pick up to make temperatures well below zero. I stood shaking outside the bar for the last fifteen minutes. I was waiting for her to see me when she came to lock the front door. I hoped that it would be soon; I could already feel the tips of my fingers going numb.

"Why are you still here?" Jordan asked as she opened the door.

"I promised Eddie," I replied. I know it sounded lame. I wanted to tell her that I was here to make amends; to forge some sort of peace so I could be some part of Calleigh's life. I had the better part of five and a half hours to think about the prospect of having a daughter; I had time to think about all the time that I had already missed. I had five hours to think about how much I hated myself.

"I told you to leave," Jordan replied as she walked out by me. She instantly began to shiver in the cold air.

"Go inside and finishing closing up, Jordan," I said, "I'll wait out here."

"Why did you go?" she asked. Her words were spoken so softly . . . barely audible.

"I didn't want to hurt you anymore . . . after Devan . . . I knew I used her to try to replace you," I replied. I hadn't said Devan's name in years; I hadn't wanted to. I had done wrong by her.

"I don't understand. Was it that bad? Was I that bad?" Jordan asked. She was visibly shaking. She rubbed her hands violently against her upper arms in a desperate attempt to warm herself. I knew what she was asking about; she wanted to know if something about her was so repulsive that it made me run. I wanted to tell her that I was so disgusted with myself that I needed to run.

"Can we go inside?" I asked. She opened the door for me; the Pogue was empty.

"I let the college students leave early on Fridays . . . I don't want to ruin their entire weekend," Jordan explained as if I had asked her a question.

"Can you tell me about her?" I asked. I had a million questions to ask her, but I didn't know if it was my place to force the issue after Jordan had shot it down earlier.

"What do you want to know?" Jordan asked as I followed her behind the bar to help clean up.

"Everything . . . I want to know everything," I replied.

"She turns four in three days. The world is her stage . . . she's dramatic; she dances ballet. Yesterday, she said that she either wants to be a ballerina or a doctor like Nigel. Calleigh is infatuated with everything that Nigel and Bug do in the lab. She sits up on a stool next to them asking a million questions about each and every machine. She asks Bug to tell her about Lepidotera . . . butterflies . . . she loves butterflies. She could spend hours drawing the minutest details on the wings. Please don't try to take my daughter away from me," Jordan said as she finally broke down into tears. I couldn't imagine taking Calleigh away from her . . . I wished I knew why Jordan thought I would do that.

"I wouldn't take her away from you," I whispered. I just wanted to play some role in her life. I wondered if it was far too late for that to even happen.

"You can't. I'd die without her," Jordan replied as she unsuccessfully tried to fight the sobs that racked her body. I pulled her into my arms; I could feel her body tense against me. I was horrified that Jordan thought of me as a monster. I was a monster that could threaten the balance her and Nigel had created for Calleigh.

"I wouldn't take her . . . I would never take her from you," I said trying desperately to reassure her. It had just then dawned on me that Calleigh was the only family Jordan had left. It was her, Calleigh, and the family that had built themselves around the morgue. Maybe I hadn't done Jordan the favor I thought I did when I left Boston. I left her alone, pregnant, and with a secret that she would try to forever hide from her daughter. Jordan was becoming all the things she despised about Max.

"We made such a beautiful little girl," I whispered.

"She's everything to me . . . how am I supposed to explain this to a four year old? She's smart, but I don't think she'll ever understand why I had to lie to her. Dad was right . . . the truth doesn't set you free," Jordan commented as she pulled away from me. She dried her eyes on a cocktail napkin.

"You don't have to tell her about me . . . maybe I should leave town. I'm sorry, Jordan . . . I didn't mean to come back and do this," I replied.

"Woody . . . you don't have to leave . . . It's just that Calleigh loves Nigel. Nigel loves Calleigh more than I thought he ever thought he could. After Nigel got sick, Calleigh became his world. Nigel became Calleigh's world . . . she would lay in the hospital bed next to him. She would kiss his cheek after the chemo treatments. How do I tell my little girl that Nigel isn't her father," Jordan replied as she went back to cleaning up behind the bar. I took off my coat and began loading glasses into the autoclave. Jordan looked like she felt guilty; guilty for wishing that maybe I would never come back. I instantaneously felt guilty for coming back.

"Nigel was sick?" I asked.

"Cancer. It's gone now, but I don't think I can go through that again. I told him that we would stay a family . . . he needs us," Jordan said. The tears ran down her cheeks again; Nigel's hair had been shorter . . . he did look thinner. So much had changed in five years. I didn't know if I would ever fit into those changes. I didn't know how to fit into those changes. Jordan had been thrown into so many roles that were foreign to her . . . she was a caretaker, a mother, and a life partner.

"She likes cops," I commented, "Nigel said that she was a social belle."

"She's smart . . . she has the vocabulary of a second grader. Nigel and I have been teaching her to read . . . she's going to grow up to be something wonderful," Jordan replied; she startled when there was a knock at the front door. I went to answer it.

"Detective Hoyt?" Sydney said as I opened the door. He was carrying a huge gift wrapped box. It must be for the party tomorrow.

"Sydney," I said as I let him in.

"Jo, I can't make it tomorrow, so I thought I would drop off tonight," Sydney said as he walked over to the bar. I locked the door.

"Thank you. How was your shift?" Jordan asked. I watched as they fell into a comfortable conversation that was so much less strained than the ones Jordan and I engaged in.

"Uneventful. I need to go get some sleep. Tell my favorite girl, to have a happy birthday," Sydney said as he placed the package on the bar. I knew that I would be discussed later; I knew that Dr. Macy would have his chance to put in his two cents.

"She's going to miss you tomorrow. I'll see you at work on Monday," Jordan said as I opened the door for Sydney. He disappeared into the snow; I locked the door.

"She looks so much like you," I said as I walked back to the bar.

"I don't know if that's a good or bad thing," Jordan replied.

"I can't imagine her being any more beautiful . . . she's beautiful just like her mother," I replied. I hadn't meant to be so forward; I hadn't intended to knock Jordan off balance again.

"Thank you, Woody. What else do you want to know about Calleigh," Jordan asked. She had become so much more intuitive; she seemed to pick up on the subtle emotions that she used to miss.

"Is she healthy?" I asked. That's all that seemed to matter; she should be healthy and happy.

"Very healthy. It was a rough pregnancy, but everything has evened out since," Jordan replied. She smiled. She was thinking about her pregnancy . . . Calleigh . . . Nigel.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," I replied. I was really sorry that I wasn't there. I wished I could have been with Jordan . . . I hoped that someday Calleigh would understand.

"You did what you needed to," Jordan replied. I wasn't sure if that was her way of forgiving me; I wanted forgiveness more than ever. I wondered what I would have done if I knew that Jordan was pregnant; I wasn't sure if I would have come back to Boston. I wanted to believe that I would have, but Boston held so many bad memories. Five years ago, I needed to get away from those memories.

"Jordan, what role do I get to play in her life?" I asked. Jordan looked at the bar top; she didn't look like she had any idea what to say to me.

"I don't know . . . I'll need to talk to Nigel. He's a huge part of her life," Jordan replied. She looked conflicted; she looked so much more tired than I remembered. Jordan looked so much weaker. She looked like she needed Nigel; I guessed that Nigel probably needed her just as much.

"I understand. I think I'm ready to close. Thank you for staying," Jordan replied as she turned the house lights off. I followed her into one of the back rooms. Her desk was covered in pictures of the little girl; I stopped to admire each one. I wanted to ask Jordan about the circumstances of each picture. I knew that was inappropriate. Jordan was dealing with enough right now . . . I hadn't even begun to figure out what I was feeling.

I walked her to her car. She thanked me.

"When can I see you again?" I asked. I really meant to ask when she might come to a decision about Calleigh and the developing custody triangle.

"Tomorrow is Calleigh's birthday party . . . it's at the Pogue at noon. You should stop by," Jordan replied. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea; I knew Nigel and Dr. Macy would never approve of that, but I had already missed so much. I didn't want to miss anymore.


	4. The Birthday Party

I spent the night in my half unpacked apartment thinking about what I had left behind. I had left behind a beautiful woman pregnant with my beautiful daughter. I reasoned that I didn't know; I reasoned that there was no way I would have been a good father to Calleigh. I reasoned that I needed some time to grow up. It was a little hard to swallow that at 33 years old I still needed an additional five years to grow up. I wondered how the hell I could just walk into this little girl's life and turn it upside down. Nigel and Jordan gave her a family; they gave her all the love they had. They built a family that went through everything together. I wasn't a part of that family; I wondered if it was fair for me to break up that family. She called him 'daddy.' I didn't know what Calleigh would call me. I wondered if it was far too late for me to walk back into their lives. My things were still in boxes; I could easily steal away into the night and disappear. I could never come home again, but Boston would always be home . . . it was where Jordan and Calleigh were. Home was right behind me the entire time; I was just too damn dumb to figure that out.

It was eight in the morning; I had barely gotten any sleep. I hadn't bothered to change out of the clothes I was wearing last night. I could still smell her on my shirt. I had a hard time parting with the clothing. I stared out the window at Boston. I missed the New England city. Milwaukee could never replace what I had in Boston; I was stupid to think that it could.

I began to unpack the boxes littering the living room. I began to put together my kitchen. I was surprised to hear someone knocking at my door. It was Dr. Macy; I wondered how the hell he managed to track me down. Sydney must have tipped him off that I was alone with Jordan last night.

"Why did you come back? Why did you have to come back after things started to get better?" Dr. Macy asked. I waved him in to my apartment to avoid the developing scene in the hallway. The walls were paper thin; I could hear the couple next door copulating last night. The neighbors would probably be privy to this conversation even if they didn't want to be. It was one hell of a way to get to know your neighbors.

"I didn't know," I replied. I was sure that he would just love to hear the story about Sara; I'm sure that he would probably relish the fact that I had suffered. God knows I made Jordan suffer.

"She fought like hell to find you. Nigel and I were convinced that she was going to kill herself because she thought you rejected her. It's not easy for Jordan to make herself vulnerable . . . last time she did, she wound up pregnant and alone," Dr. Macy said. He raised his voice; the veins in his forehead began to pop out. I understood; if I were in his shoes, I would be pissed at me too. Sometimes, I was pissed at myself for just being.

"I didn't know," I repeated.

"Don't you dare break up that family. Don't you dare play into Jordan's vulnerabilities," Macy warned. I had become the monster in everyone's eyes.

"She's my daughter . . . I can't just walk away from her," I replied.

"Daughter by biology is a very different thing from daughter by emotion and love. Nigel loves Calleigh . . . he's done everything to give that little girl a home. Your genetics don't mean a damn thing in that house," Macy replied. His voice was still raised; I half expected him to strike me. I had never seen him so close to losing his temper. I wanted to say something to the effect that I have grown as a person, but I wasn't sure if that was at all truthful. I was just beginning to figure out my motivations and my needs.

"I just want to know her . . . it's really up to Jordan what happens," I commented. That was probably the wrong thing to say. Dr. Macy just wanted me to leave; he was under the assumption that I should be the one to act. I was under the assumption that Jordan could still make decisions for herself. I'm sure in reality both assumptions were blurred; Jordan and Nigel formed a family that made decisions together . . . I had little if any say in any of their business.

"If you do become a part of Calleigh's life, I will personally kill you if you do anything to hurt her or Jordan. I'm not kidding . . . I promised Max that I would always watch over his girls. Don't screw around with them, Woody," Macy replied as he turned to leave.

"So you really want her to be in a loveless relationship for the rest of her life?" I asked. I hadn't really intended to say it, but in the heat of the moment I was again proving my stupidity. Dr. Macy turned to look at me.

"She's doing what's right for her daughter . . . it's because of you that Jordan had to give up that luxury," Macy said as he slammed my front door. The neighbors promptly started beating on the walls informing me that they would like me to shut up. I wondered if it was really my fault that Jordan was in a loveless relationship; it very well could be . . . I wouldn't count it out as a possibility.

I showered and changed. It felt good to stand under the scalding hot water; for a few moments I didn't feel the anger and hurt. For a few moments I think I even forgot about the mess I left behind in Boston.

I found the pill bottle in the bottom of my carry-on bag. I pulled out two of the tiny white pills. Some days the only reason I got out of bed was because of the Prozac. I had started taking anti-depressant three weeks after getting to Milwaukee. I went to the doctor complaining of stomach aches and lethargy. After an endoscope and what seemed like an endless number of blood tests, the doctor said that I was depressed and these little white pills would make me feel better. I wasn't sure if I ever really felt better. I never did feel better; I knew what I was missing . . . I knew what I had lost. I wondered if every other ex-boyfriend felt the same decimating anguish after they left Jordan. My sadness was nearly crippling; it took months for me to finally begin to open myself enough to forge some relationships in Milwaukee. It took forever for me to even begin to think about dating again. I set myself up for defeat; I always compare women to Jordan. I guess if I couldn't have her, I wouldn't have anyone.

I wanted to buy something for Calleigh; I knew to everyone else it would appear as though I was trying to buy the child's love, but I reasoned that I should give her something. I wanted her to have something from me that would always be with her. I had no idea what to buy for a four year old; I wouldn't have had any idea of what to buy a child of any age. I had to remind myself that just because I was a father didn't mean that I was a parent . . . Macy made that entirely too clear.

I wandered the streets of downtown Boston. It was quickly approaching noon. I walked in several toy stores and book stores. I found nothing. There wasn't anything that I wanted to give my daughter . . . nothing was special enough. I walked into the last store on the block; I hadn't bothered to even look at the sign before entering. It was a jewelry store; it sounded like a good idea . . . Calleigh appeared to be all girl . . . so much unlike her mother. I wondered if it was okay to buy my daughter jewelry even if I never bought her mother jewelry.

"How can I help you?" a young saleswoman asked me. That probably wasn't the right question to ask because I needed a lot of help in so many different areas of my life.

"I need to find something special for my four year old daughter," I replied.

"Four year old?" the young woman asked looking very confused. I knew that it probably wasn't customary to buy a young child expensive jewelry.

"She's only going to turn four once," I replied. Well, she already had a series of birthdays that I missed; this gift needed to be damn special. The saleswoman smiled. She looked at me as if I was a wonderful father; she was about as far from the truth as possible.

I finally decided on a simple gold necklace with an amethyst pendant. The amethyst was heart shaped; it was her birthstone . . . it also made me hopeful that someday I might have some place in her heart. I watched the saleswoman wrap the small package. I hoped that Jordan wouldn't be mad at me for spending so much on Calleigh, but I reasoned that Jordan didn't really have any say in my finances. It was stupid to think that because I did wish that she was mine. I wished that Jordan would go back to dominating every aspect of my life; I even wished that she would entangle me in her quest to find truth in the past. This was the first time in five years that I wished I could turn back the clock.

I stood outside the Pogue for more than a few minutes. I didn't want to go in; I didn't want to be in a room where I was judged for all my ill-conceived choices. They would never really understand why I did the things that I did; they would never understand that I needed to medicate myself to deal with the consequences of my actions.

I took a deep breath and walked in. I always hated it when rooms quieted when you enter them. I knew that I was probably the hot topic of conversation. I wished that I could explain, but my explanation would do nothing more than bring back the painful memories that I tried so hard to avoid.

"Woody, haven't seen you in a long time," Bug commented. I was surprised that out of all the people in the bar he was the first one to talk to me.

"It has been a long time. I know it's been a long time passed, but congratulations . . . I'm really happy for you and Lily," I replied.

"We got your card," Bug replied. It was an awkward response to an awkward statement.

"Woody, you're back," Lily said as she hugged me. I was so glad that I could still count on her kindness.

"Wow, congratulations," I said as Lily stepped back. She was huge; I wondered if Jordan looked like that when she was pregnant.

"Seven months . . . we've finally hit the home stretch," Lily said with a smile. Even when she was pregnant, she was beautiful . . . she was happy. I watched the way that she rested her hands on her swollen stomach. It made me sad that I wasn't there to feel Calleigh kick; I would have even been happy to suffer through the morning sickness with Jordan. God knows I'm a sympathy vomiter.

"I didn't think you'd be here," Eddie said as he walked up behind me.

"Jordan invited me last night," I replied. I could see Bug shake his head. They acted as if my return was the beginning of all the Doomsday events. I was thankful that Eddie was oblivious enough to not realize that Calleigh was my daughter. I didn't need his questions or disdain.

"So when is the belle of the ball going to be here?" Eddie asked Bug and Lily.

"A couple minutes . . . you know how Jordan is about being on time. I'm sure that she's having a heart attack because they are a few minutes late," Lily replied. I sure as hell didn't remember Jordan being like that; so much changes in five years.

"Well, I can't stay too much longer . . . Calleigh still makes me promise to go catch the bad guys every night," Eddie replied.

"She's really latched on to that stage of dichotomous thinking . . . black and white . . . right and wrong," Lily commented. I guessed I would probably fall under the column of bad . . . bad parent . . . bad friend . . . I knew I could probably come up with a dozen more things.

I was relieved that Jordan and Nigel showed up with Calleigh. The little girl seemed to revel in all the attention. She was beautiful; I couldn't think of a better word to describe her. Her hair was only half pulled back letting the curls cascade down her back. She wore a purple velvet dress, white tights, and black Mary Jane shoes. She immediately ran to Dr. Macy. He must have been serving as the surrogate grandfather. Dr. Macy's daughter and what I assumed was her husband began to lavish attention on the little girl.

"You came," Jordan said with a smile. I was surprised that she was happy that I was here. I wondered if she was only happy because her daughter was happy.

"You know I think I missed enough of these," I replied. I knew my smile probably looked awkward.

"You did," Jordan replied, "Nigel and I wanted to talk with you after everything settles down and Calleigh is distracted." I understood that she didn't want her daughter to be an active witness to the conversation.

"Sure. Um . . . I got this for Calleigh. I thought she would like something special . . . it's probably too much for a four year old, but you know. You don't have to give it to her now . . . it's probably something she would appreciate more when she's older," I rambled. Jordan smiled.

"You didn't get her a gun, did you?" Jordan joked as she accepted the box. I hated how we always fell back into this comfortable banter; it always made leaving her harder. I would have almost preferred hatred.

"No . . . no . . . ," I replied. I scrambled to find the words. Jordan laughed. I remembered how much she loved to put me on the spot.

"Mommy, when do I get to open presents?" Calleigh asked as she pulled on Jordan's pant leg to get a suitable amount of attention.

"Soon . . . soon. Did you go say hi to Lily and Bug?" Jordan asked. Calleigh violently nodded her head yes; I couldn't help but to smile as her.

"You're Uncle Eddie's friend . . . you're a cop too," Calleigh said pointedly as she motioned for Jordan to pick her up. I didn't know the proper response to this question; I really wanted to tell her that I'm her father, but I restrained.

"Calleigh, I'm Woody. I used to know your Mom and Dad a long time ago . . . before you were born," I replied. Jordan nodded approvingly.

"You look sad. What are you sad about?" Calleigh asked. I wondered who she got that sense of observation from . . . it could have easily been Jordan or me. I was the one that was more likely to call people on their emotions. I was sad . . . I was sad that I couldn't even reach out to hold my own daughter. I was sad that I hadn't been an active part of her life; I was sad that I was so easily replaced by another man.

_Calleigh, I have a million things to be sad about . . . you are far too young to hear about them, but I'm saddest because you don't have any idea as to who I am or what I should mean to you, I thought._

"I'm not sad . . . I'm just very tired," I lied. Calleigh didn't seem convinced by the answer; I wondered how a four year old could be so much smart than a man that was thirty-three years her senior.

"Are you going to help Uncle Eddie catch bad guys?" Calleigh asked.

"On Monday . . . I'm going to catch as many bad guys as I can," I replied. Calleigh crawled out of her mother's arms just as quickly as she had crawled into them. She ran off to find Abby; Jordan said that Abby always would do Calleigh's hair.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard," Jordan said. She would never know what I was struggling with.

"I shouldn't be here . . . she's happy and healthy . . . she has no idea who I am. I don't think I can torture myself anymore," I said with a sigh. I wasn't a part of this girl's life; I probably never would be. I watched Calleigh jump into Nigel's arms. I watched him twirl her around. I was just torturing myself by being here.

"I'll understand if you go . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dangle her in front of you like that," Jordan replied, "It was good to see you again . . . I don't think you'll ever fool anyone with that answer . . . you know, if someone asks if you are sad."

"Before I go . . . can you just tell me your decision?" I asked as I began to put on my coat. Jordan paused and sighed. It couldn't possibly good news.

"Woody, we don't know . . . we don't know if you are serious about wanting to be a permanent part of her life. We don't even know if we can trust you. I don't want you to walk out of her life if your life gets too tough. The running stops once you start a relationship with Calleigh . . . your needs come second to hers. It's a commitment. It's not one that I take lightly," Jordan replied. I wished she could have saved the lecture for another time.

"Are you okay, Love," Nigel asked as he came up behind Jordan. She seemed comfortable as he put his hands on her hips. She leaned back into him a little bit. Jordan seemed to relax in his arms. I wondered exactly what the boundaries of their relationship were; I wondered if I was right about Jordan being in a loveless relationship. Looking at them now, I knew there was the distinct possibility that I was wrong . . . I was very wrong.

"We're fine . . . don't worry so much," Jordan replied.

"What comes next?" I asked.

"I don't really know . . . let's just play it by ear," Jordan replied.

"Just remember that Calleigh isn't someone that you can just walk away from . . . ," Nigel said. I didn't dare admit how I was captivated by the young girl. This was the first time that I was really interested in making a commitment; even if I couldn't have Jordan, I wanted to be part of our daughter's life. Family was important; I didn't realize that until I went back to Wisconsin and found that it was my family that once made the state special. Without Cal, my brother . . . my last living relative, the state held no significance. I wanted something significant in my life.

"I don't think I could . . . I don't think I want to," I replied.

"Woody, you can turn my life upside down, but please be gentle with Calleigh," Jordan replied. I saw how worried she looked; I wondered if she would be surprised that I spent well over three hours looking for a birthday present for Calleigh. I wondered if that was a start on what looked like a long road of redemption.

"Woodrow, you should stay . . . she's only going to turn four once," Nigel replied. At that moment, I wished that I was even half the man he was. All I could do was nod and watch a perfect little girl trying to teach Dr. Macy how to play pat-a-cake. I would never fool anyone into thinking that I was happy . . . I was probably the saddest man on Earth.


	5. Lepidoptera

It's funny how my happiest and my saddest moments all seemed to occur at once. I watched Calleigh blow out her candles; I watched Calleigh sit on Nigel's lap while she opened her presents. I was so pleased to see that I had an amazing daughter, but I was saddened that none of her characteristics could possibly attributed to my actions as a father.

I spent the evening thinking about my current situation. I could hear all of Jordan's words echoing in my head; I knew that this was an unbreakable commitment . . . I would never be able to run again. I found myself surprised that I was more concerned about my tendency to run from all my problems than worrying about Jordan's tendency to run. I found a sick humor in the fact that the tables had turned so quickly; I was now the troubled one . . . Jordan had her life together. Mine was falling apart. It had been falling apart since I left Boston.

My apartment is freezing. I'm continuing to unpack my kitchen; I figured I'd like to be able to eat in the near future. It was my only motivation to continue digging through boxes in a vain attempt to assemble some organization in my life. I needed to do something to keep me from calling Jordan and begging to see my daughter. I found that the simple words 'my daughter' brought me enormous comfort. For some reason it didn't make me feel quite so alone in the world. I remember James saying something to that effect to Jordan just moments prior to freefalling into the St. James River. I never thought someone so crazy could ever say something so true. Having someone else in the world that is part of who you are was an amazing comfort.

I was thankful that tomorrow was Monday; I looked forward to doing something to temporarily distract my mind.

My sleep was fitful as it had been for five years. I woke with excited anticipation of returning to a place that was once a home to me. I looked forward to being a homicide detective in a city in desperate need of people to solve complex and slightly more dramatic crimes. I couldn't remember the last time I felt anticipation; much of my life in Milwaukee was based upon a comforting routine. The routine guided me through a miserable stable life. I was perfectly satisfied with that; for some reason I had come to expect that I would be unhappy. I wondered why I should be happy after causing Devan so much pain. I wondered if my unhappiness was God's way of punishing me for going astray; I had stopped going to church . . . I had stopped saying a brief prayer before falling asleep. I had even questioned the existence of a God. I reasoned that no God would let Devan die as she did. It was also possible that I stopped because I was afraid of the wrath I would incur for breaking many of the sacred Commandments . . . using the Lord's name in vain, not honoring my parents, coveting those that were never supposed to be mine. I racked up a lot of sins over the thirty-eight years of my life.

The moment I set foot in the door, Eddie had an assignment for me. It was a MVA. It could be as simple as the brakes failing, the driver falling asleep at the wheel, or a successful suicide attempt. Jordan had always taught me to look for zebras rather than horses. For some reason I immediately expected foul play; I always expected foul play. It was safer to expect the worse . . . occasionally I was surprised that human nature wasn't as destructive and hurtful as I anticipated prior to examining the case.

"Jordan," I said as I walked up to where she was completing a liver temperature on the elderly driver that was pulled out of the wreckage. The car was bent around a tree in one of the popular squares. I remember Jordan and me going for coffee at a small café only a block away from the site of the accident.

"Seventy year old male. Cause of death is pretty self-explanatory. The only weird thing is that the liver temp is 103.7 and he's only been dead for a half hour," Jordan said as I walked up behind her. The body was mangled; there were pieces there that I wasn't sure what they even were and there were pieces missing. I instantaneously became nauseated. I needed to quickly get up and walk away. I hadn't seen that carnage in years . . . well, since I left Boston. I primarily dealt with stabbings and GSWs in Milwaukee . . . I never dealt with elderly men that were torn apart by steel after colliding with an old oak tree. I hadn't been present for an autopsy in five years. In Milwaukee there was no reason to as the medical examiner was an ancient man that in no way exuded the sex appeal Jordan and Devan did.

I looked up at the sky. I still wanted to vomit all over the pavement, but I didn't have many Prozac left . . . I'd be damned if I was going to throw them up.

"You okay?" Jordan asked as she walked up behind me. I tried to take a deep breath in an attempted to regain my composure. I remembered that smiling suppressed the gag reflex, but that didn't work today. I ended up vomiting on the pavement . . . it was the last thing that I really wanted to do. I hoped she had walked away; I hoped she wasn't watching me.

"I guess you're not okay. I'll have the body bagged in a few minutes if you want to go get yourself cleaned up," Jordan replied. I looked down and was dismayed to see two barely digested Prozac. I figured today would be a lovely day . . . my first unmedicated day in five years.

"I guess I'm a little desensitized," I replied as I stood up and wiped my mouth off with a handkerchief.

"I guess after five years . . .," Jordan trailed off. She obviously thought that whatever comment she would make wouldn't make this situation any better. She had become so thoughtful. I had become so emotionally closed off; I often found that I was insensitive. In Milwaukee, I would often make rude comments that would make Sara cry. I didn't know why I did that; I attributed it to Sara being too damn sensitive . . . in reality, I was just too damn cold.

"So what's the story? I assume that you already talked to the witnesses," I replied. My voice cracked a little bit; my voice was hoarse . . . my throat burned.

"I'm taking care of the body. It's your job to interview the witnesses. You're taking Prozac," Jordan commented. I was embarrassed that she knew; I was impressed that she knew what pills looked like partially digested.

"I'm going to go do my job," I replied. I tried to get away from her. She followed me for a few feet.

"Here take this," Jordan said as she handed me a pack of gum, "Your breath will smell just like a rookie's."

There was the barb that I was waiting for; I was just thankful that she didn't choose to probe my anti-depressant use.

"Thanks. I'll fax you my report," I replied as I began to walk away. I ran a hand through my hair. All this sleep deprivation was beginning to catch up to me; I felt extremely disoriented and dizzy. I attributed it to shame and guilt. I neglected to remember that I hadn't eaten in well over twenty-four hours.

"You aren't going to come to the autopsy?" Jordan asked. She looked a little shocked; I guess that was the one thing she hoped to teach me . . . the answers always lay within the body. I didn't think my stomach would be able to handle the path to the answers. It was the first time that I realized I wasn't as tough as I thought I was; I had been ground down into a fragile shell of a person. I survived only because the pills kept me from feeling depressed enough to kill myself; I survived only because I had a routine to make each day pass as yesterday and the day before that had. I was functioning at such a low level that it even shocked me.

"No . . . I'll need the afternoon to get all my paperwork processed. Eddie left a few of my old case files on my desk . . . thought I'd spend the evening trying to piece together the loose ends that I might have missed," I replied. I planned on working until I was so exhausted that my body had to sleep.

"Oh. I just thought . . . never mind," Jordan said as she looked at the ground, "Are you okay?" She looked at me as if I was going to fall apart.

_I'm not okay. I'm not okay. I'm not okay, I thought._

"Yeah . . . just tired," I lied.

"You never were good at lying," Jordan commented.

"I'm not good at all that much," I replied. I hadn't intended to say that out loud, "I should start interviewing witnesses."

"I should get working on the body," Jordan replied. She walked away. I watched her walk away. I was glad she didn't try to broach the subject of my shortcomings as a man on this particular venue. Those things could be talked about later. I really didn't ever want to broach that subject . . . I hoped my comment fell upon deaf ears. Some things were much too dark to be talked about in the light of day.

My day passed uneventfully. I filed paperwork. I waited for Eddie to assign me another case. I introduced myself to a couple of detectives that I hadn't seen before. I looked through case files until midnight. My eyes were drooping and my head felt heavy. I reasoned that it was probably time for me to go home. My body was ready to drift into my usual fitful sleep.

The next morning was the same as yesterday. I woke up and cursed when I found that I only had ten Prozac left. I knew what that meant. I would have to go to a doctor and tell him about all my problems and how I came to depend on pills to function. The doctor would look at me with pity in his eyes and send me home with a prescription. I hated doctors . . . I hated shrinks. I knew that I would have to go in for a mandatory counseling session; I had to do that when I started my job in Milwaukee . . . I remembered Boston being no different.

I drove to a café that I remembered liking five years ago. I falsely believed that an espresso and scone would some how make me feel better. The coffee was bitter and the scone was hard.

Eddie called me . . . said something about a bank robbery . . . four dead bodies. I unfortunately was first on the scene. I knew I was supposed to wait. I knew that it would be stupid for me to go in alone without back up. I went in anyway with my gun drawn. People outside the bank were screaming and crying. I guess the robbers had an early roll out; it was a shame. The dead looked so young . . . they looked so fresh. It was sad to see four bodies seemingly wilted on the white marble floors; the blood provided a striking contrast.

The sound of the gunshots didn't even make me flinch. The heat and explosion of my flesh did nothing more than make me crumple to the ground. I guessed the robbers weren't done; I had interrupted their work, and they sure as hell put a cramp in my day. I distinctly remember hearing three shots . . . one to my right arm, which sent my gun flying across the floor . . . one to my right leg, which caused me to collapse . . . one to my abdomen, which caused the world around me to suddenly become hazy. I wondered if those men or women intended to kill five people today. I included myself in the death toll . . . I figured that my injuries probably weren't minor. I wondered if somehow this was my punishment. I wondered if this was intended to make Jordan's life easier; I wondered if this was a sign that I should have never come back to Boston.

I don't remember much of the ambulance ride, but I do remember feeling hands all over my body. I remember the sensation of saline and blood being pushed into my veins. I remember voices calling for chest tubes, a central line, and packed blood cells. I remember the word 'stat' being thrown around liberally as if it was how all people end their sentences. I remember everything fading to black. I wondered if I would ever wake up again.

I did wake up. I woke up four days later according to the nurses. They lavished attention upon me. They informed me that rods were put in my arms and legs; I joked that the rods were my internal body armor. No one seemed to find that funny. The nurses told me that I lost my spleen, but I didn't really need a spleen. They asked if I had family that should be notified. I said I had no one. Cal was in California; he didn't have much money. I didn't want him to waste his money on a plane ticket to come watch me wallow in my own misery. The nurses seemed sad that I had no one. They weren't nearly as sad as I was.

One of the nurses, Tammy, said that Eddie had stopped by a few times. She said that a woman stopped by in the evenings. Tammy didn't work the evening shift, so she couldn't tell me the woman's name. I didn't want it to be Jordan. I didn't want her to see me like that.

I rested in my hospital bed for hours on end. I kept the room silent . . . no television . . . no radio. I tried to make sense of this. I tried to make sense of the fact that I walked straight into danger seemingly without a care. I walked around like my life really didn't matter; it was a startling conclusion . . . I wondered when I stopped caring. I wondered when I suddenly felt so alone. I wondered when everything got so bad; I wondered how I could make it better. I wondered why it took three bullets to make me begin to reevaluate my desire to live. This was by no means an epiphany, but it did bring to light questions that I thought I should start answering.

"Hoyt . . . that was stupid . . . that was fucking stupid," Eddie said as he walked into my room. I wanted to thank him for reminding me, but I figured at this point it was easier just to keep my mouth shut.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Eddie asked as he sat down in a chair next to my bed.

"Go get me a soda . . . I'm sick of the water the nurses keep bringing me," I replied. Eddie looked as if he was going to slap me over the head; I probably did deserve that.

"Hoyt . . . you dumbass. So that nurse, the brunette, she single?" Eddie asked. I had to laugh at that. Eddie always had a way of finding something positive about the most inappropriate situations; I figured that was probably why he wasn't a negotiator . . . he might just end up encouraging people to jump off buildings.

"I'm not your personal dating service. You want a nurse, you go get shot," I quipped. Eddie laughed and punched my left arm; I would have killed him if he punched my right arm.

"She's worried about you," Eddie said as he flipped the television on. Law and Order was just about the last thing that I wanted to be watching.

"Who?" I asked.

"They shot your arm, leg and spleen not your brain," Eddie commented. I scowled at the remark.

"Oh. Her," I replied. I didn't know what to say.

"Hey, Eddie, why don't you leave for a little bit," Jordan replied. I wondered how long she had been standing there. Eddie got up silently and left the room. Jordan sat down in the chair that Eddie had vacated.

"You are a moron," Jordan said.

"Can't you do better than that? Eddie at least called me a dumbass," I replied. Jordan didn't look nearly as amused as I was.

"Well, since Calleigh and Nigel are waiting in the hallway . . . I'll wait to unleash my wrath. What made you do that? I just need to know," Jordan asked. I was surprised that she brought Calleigh; I didn't want her to see me like this.

_Despair . . . umm, self-loathing . . . helplessness . . . an empty void that seemingly grows larger everyday._

"I wasn't thinking . . . I haven't been sleeping well," I replied. I was lying again and Jordan knew it, "You should take Calleigh home; she shouldn't be here."

"What if you do something else stupid?" Jordan challenged.

"I'm in a hospital, Jordan," I replied. I was surprised that I hadn't thought enough to tell her that I wasn't going to do anything nearly as stupid as the stunt I pulled four days ago.

"Woody, what happened? I just don't get it . . . you're someone that I don't even know anymore," Jordan said.

"I've done a lot of horrible things to people that didn't deserve it," I replied as if that was a suitable answer to her question.

"I know you've done a lot of horrible things to yourself, but who else?" Jordan asked.

"You don't have that much time," I commented. I was quickly becoming irritated with the conversation.

"Wanna bet," Jordan challenged. I wanted to throw something; I wanted to cry. It would be the first time that I cried about Devan, Jordan, Sara, and all the others that I have forsaken. It had taken me five years to begin to grieve my actions and my losses.

"Let's not do this . . . please," I pleaded. I wanted her to leave; I didn't want her to see my like this.

"Isn't it about time? You've had five years," Jordan replied. She should know that time doesn't always bury the past. Sometimes all time does is amplify all the emotions; it digs a hole in your heart . . . it's a hole that doesn't seem to be easily fixed.

"Time hasn't been my friend," I replied.

"You should see Calleigh. She drew a butterfly for you . . . she asked me a million questions about you," Jordan commented. I was glad that she dropped the subject. I'm sure she would bring it up later.

"Jordan, not like this," I replied. I wanted to give in so badly, but I remember being her age and seeing my mother connected to all the tubes. It terrified me. I was terrified of my own mother when she was dying. I didn't want Calleigh to be terrified of my.

"I'm going to go get her," Jordan replied. She was still stubborn; I guess motherhood didn't change the core elements of her personality. She disappeared for a minute. Calleigh didn't seem to be fazed by the fact that I was tethered to the bed by IVs and machines. Jordan reminded her to be gentle with me.

"Mommy said you were hurt really bad by the bad guys," Calleigh said as she crawled up on the side of my bed, "I made you a butterfly. Uncle Bug calls them Lepidoptera. He says it's Latin for butterflies. Did you know that butterflies have scales?"

"Thank you. I didn't know that butterflies had scales. You are so smart," I replied. She was so smart; I could see the tears well in Jordan's eyes . . . I saw Nigel look down at the floor.

"You have pretty eyes," Calleigh commented. I handed Jordan the picture; she hung it on the bulletin board on the wall across the room. She hung it where I would always be able to see the picture. It was beautiful . . . precise work . . . something I hadn't expected from a four year old.

"Calleigh, has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?" I asked. It was a slip that I hadn't intended to come out of my mouth. She shook her head.

"You are . . . you should remind your Daddy to always let you know that you are beautiful," I replied. Calleigh looked confused, but she nodded her head. I hoped that the simple comment would always stay with her; if she remembered nothing else, I hoped she would always know that she was loved, she was beautiful, and she was the world to so many people.

Jordan, Nigel, and Calleigh visited with me for another hour before they needed to leave. Jordan said she would come see me tomorrow. Nigel told me to get well. Calleigh was asleep in Nigel's arms. I was sad to see them go. I was sad to find myself alone . . . again.


	6. Moving Day

I had been in the hospital for three and a half weeks. I spent five days in the intensive care unit after I had developed a blood infection, but I don't really remember those days. Eddie would later tell me that I was on a ventilator and dialysis. I wouldn't have known if he hadn't told me. Jordan still came to visit me most every night. We would talk about work, the weather, and other benign things. Jordan rarely tried to delve into what was wrong with me; if she did, I managed to shut her down. She brought Calleigh to visit once or twice a week. I looked forward to her visits. Nothing made me happier than watching my daughter try to read abrupt sentences about Jack, Jane, and Spot running. I wished I could trap those moments in a snow globe as to keep them fresh forever.

I was being moved to a rehabilitation facility today. It was hard to be excited about that. The doctors told me it was necessary; I could barely walk and the weakness in my right arm persisted. The doctors assured me that it was no more than a one week commitment. I kept insisting that I wanted to go home; I wanted to go back to my half unpacked apartment. I wanted life to go back to normal. Instead, my broken body was going to be carted off to a glorified nursing home. The nurses called it good news; I called it a dimension of pissed off that I had never experienced before.

"So it's moving day," Jordan commented when she walked into my hospital room. My things were in a small box; I told the nurses to make sure that the pictures Calleigh had drawn for me were moved with special care. I was woken up at six in the morning for my daily sponge bath by a nurse that felt nothing but sympathy for me. I could see it in how she moved my body; I would go completely limp. I would crawl inside my mind to get away from the humiliation of being looked at as broken and helpless. I was dressed in a hospital gown and robe. It took three nurses to help me into the wheelchair where I sat scowling at the world.

"Yah," I replied. I looked at her hopeful that maybe she brought Calleigh with her; it was probably too early in the morning. I wanted to see her just in case the visits from Jordan stopped; the nearest rehabilitation facility that the Boston PD would pay for was twenty minutes outside of Boston. I knew that twenty minutes was a long time for a child to sit in a car. I had already resigned myself to believe that Jordan would not be coming to see me.

"Hey, cheer up. You're getting out," Jordan replied as she pulled a chair up next to me and placed a blanket over my lap, "I'll go get her . . . I wanted to make sure that you were decent."

She disappeared for a second. I could hear the footsteps headed towards my door; they were closely spaced and fast. Calleigh always waited right outside the door while Jordan made sure that I didn't look like death warmed over. The nurses commented that Calleigh was such a well-behaved girl. They said that she was a beautiful girl. I told them that she was my friend's daughter; the one nurse said that Calleigh had my nose. I laughed it off, but I was secretly thrilled to know that I was part of her.

"Woody," Calleigh said as she bounced into the room. That was the only way to describe her gait. It was somewhere between a skip and a run. It was exuberant and free.

"Hi, sweetie," I said as she crawled up on my lap. Calleigh and I had perfected the movements needed to get her situated on my left side. She would wrap her arms around my neck. Several times she had fallen asleep on my lap; a few of the times, I had also fallen asleep. Jordan said she had a hard time prying Calleigh from my arms. Once in a drug induced haze, I told Jordan that I didn't want to let her go. The simple comment made Jordan cry. She apologized to me. She apologized to me profusely for all the lies that her family was built on. The next day, I apologized to her for threatening the balance her family was built upon. I hadn't expected to fall in love with the little girl; I hadn't expected to want the duties that came along with fatherhood. I had begun to think Jordan had counted on me getting scared and running.

"Make sure to be gentle," Jordan reminded Calleigh, "So what time do you leave?"

"Whenever the ambulance gets here to take me," I replied. I tried not to sound angry.

"I need to drop Calleigh off at pre-school, but I'll stop by to make sure you are settled," Jordan replied. I knew the tone of her voice; I knew that it was time to talk. I knew that she had patiently waited until there would be a venue that was more private and neutral. I wondered exactly what she wanted to talk about.

"What are you doing at school today?" I asked. Jordan and Nigel had decided to send Calleigh to a Montessori school. I had no idea what this was; most of my learning was through Calleigh. She would tell me about her weekly goals and the lessons she was exploring. Jordan said it was the best option for Calleigh; Calleigh was intelligent and inquisitive. Jordan said Montessori would foster that. I didn't think to argue that. I smiled and took comfort in the fact that Jordan was so involved in Calleigh's life.

"Math," Calleigh replied. I knew the tone; I used to use that tone with my father when I didn't want to do my homework. I hated math with a passion. I never remember liking math. I loved literature. It was a well kept secret that I would occasionally pull out an old dusty copy of Great Expectations or MacBeth. I was amazed how much Calleigh and I had in common; I wished I could tell her why we had those things in common.

"Woody, your ride is here," Tammy said as she stuck her head in the door.

"I didn't think our visit would be this short. Calleigh, say good-bye to your . . . say good-bye to Woody," Jordan said. I wondered what she almost said; I hoped that she was going to say that I was Calleigh's father. I hoped that Jordan was becoming much more comfortable with that idea. God knows, I was ready to scream it from the rooftops.

The little girl hugged me. I told her to be good . . . to mind her mother. She nodded. Calleigh kissed my left hand; she told my arm to get better. It was nearly enough to bring me to my knees. She was so innocent; I hoped she would stay that way forever. I prayed that she would always be naïve and trusting; I didn't want her to be like Jordan and I . . . I didn't want her to wake up one day and wonder when she became such a cold person.

"I'll pick up breakfast," Jordan said as she helped Calleigh into her winter coat, hat and mittens.

"Thanks, Jordan. Drive safe," I said as they left. Calleigh waved as they left the room. I wondered how she turned out so perfect when Jordan and I were so messed up. We were messed up by the doings of our parents. We were both terrified of becoming our parents. My father was neglectful and abusive; Jordan's father lied and kept secrets.

I numbed myself as I was loaded into the ambulance. I think I fell asleep during the ride. The next thing I remembered was being carted down a hallway that smelled of urine. I knew I wouldn't like this place. If anything, it was motivation to get walking as fast as possible. I was determined to get out of here within a week.

"I guess I beat you here," Jordan said as my gurney was wheeled into what would be my room. It was dank and dark. It reeked of a stench that I couldn't quite put my finger on. She had breakfast; she could have brought me dog food and I would have eaten it . . . I was positive that it couldn't be any worse than the delicacies presented to me at the hospital.

My body was moved into the bed. It was too short and the mattress was too worn. I was uncomfortable the second I was placed in the bed. I no longer had the metal bars to adjust my body position. I squirmed to get remotely comfortable.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jordan asked. I guess I must have looked like I reached my breaking point. Truthfully, I could feel the helplessness begin to surface. I hated feeling that way. I spent five years feeling that way. It hadn't gotten me too far; it turned me into a person that I barely recognized.

"I don't know . . .," I replied, "If I shrink six inches, I might be a little more comfortable."

"Calleigh's going to be tall like you. She's already in the 80th percentile for height. She's going to be a string bean," Jordan said as she helped me adjust my pillow. She had become good at taking care of the broken. She took care of Max and Nigel. Now, she was taking care of me. Her comment made me laugh. I was a late bloomer; it took me awhile to grow into my body.

"Ready for breakfast," Jordan said as she handed me my 'whussy' coffee.

"Fruit and bagels . . . very food pyramid," I commented. Jordan told me to be thankful that I wasn't eating what came on the breakfast tray for me.

"I missed you every day . . . I still miss you every day," I said. I hadn't expected to say that. I'm glad I did; it made me feel a little freer. I was a little closer to pushing the demons out of the forefronts of my life. I was a little closer to becoming whole again. I wanted to be whole again so Calleigh wouldn't always ask me why I was so sad. I was damn tired of being sad.

"I missed you too. Why did you leave without saying good-bye?" she asked. Jordan was leaning over me. I could smell her perfume. She was slicing the bagel for me. Jordan was acutely aware of my limitations. The cast and pins in my arm severely limited my ability to do anything for myself.

"I didn't want to be talked out of running. Jordan, I didn't go because of you. I left because I needed to start figuring things out . . . I needed to grow up," I replied. She was so close to me that I wanted to touch her. I was afraid she would pull away. She had every reason to pull away; she had a family now.

"Where did you go?" Jordan asked. She sounded hurt; I hated it when she was hurt.

"Milwaukee. I didn't find what I was looking for. You were right . . . home was right behind me the entire time. If I had known about . . ., I would have come home," I replied. Jordan lingered close to me for a few extra seconds. I wish she would have stayed longer . . . been closer.

"What made you come home?" she asked as she began to attend to her own breakfast. She looked tired. I wondered why she looked so tired this week.

"I proposed to this amazing woman and she got up and walked out of the restaurant without me and the ring," I replied. That was one hell of a huge slip; I hadn't intended for her to know that. I didn't want anyone to ever know that. My own brother didn't even know about Sara; he didn't even know Sara existed. I figured it might be time to start coming clean; Jordan wanted honesty. She made it clear this week that she wanted to know me again; I was the one that had become a different person. She had called me on that once. I still felt like I knew Jordan; very little about her had changed. I'm glad it hadn't; she was still the woman that I fell in love with, fell out of love with, and fell in love with again and again.

"I'm sorry. She would have been lucky to have you," Jordan commented.

"No, she was smart to get out when she had the chance. I know what I've become. I don't know if I like what I've become," I replied.

"That's a little harsh," Jordan commented, "You're good with Calleigh. She wouldn't love you if she thought you were some kind of monster."

"I missed so much," I replied as I picked at the fruit.

"You're here now," Jordan replied. I squirmed in the bed in an attempt to try to find a comfortable position; no such luck.

"Aren't you going to ask why Sara refused to marry me?" I asked. I continued to pick at breakfast.

"Is it my business?" Jordan asked.

"Sara told me that she could never be you. I never told her about you, but I compared her to you every day," I replied.

"That was a long time ago. We aren't the same people," Jordan commented. I didn't know how to reply to that. I sat mute for a few moments while Jordan and I tried to gather our thoughts.

_I know, Jordan. You are so much better than I remember. _

"Are you and Nigel happy?" I asked. I knew this was none of my business. I didn't expect her to answer me. I figured I had already begun to tell her my secrets; it was about time that we laid all our cards on the table.

"He's been a great friend to me; he's been great to have around the house. Our relationship is a really great friendship . . . it's not the physical relationship that you are conjuring up in your head. We put on an okay show for people. Garrett and Dad were the only ones that could see through it," Jordan replied. I knew she hadn't intended to give me the long explanation as she just had. Jordan blushed crimson and looked down at the floor.

"Are you happy?" I asked again.

"I have a home and family, but I am so damn lonely," Jordan replied. She sounded choked up.

"Why do you do that to yourself?" I asked. I knew why before I even asked the question; it was all for Calleigh.

"Woody, Nigel's cancer is back. He needs me right now. Nigel was there whenever I needed him," Jordan replied. She set down the bagel that she was picking at. She began to openly cry. I couldn't remember the last time I saw her openly express emotions other than anger and hurt; it was probably the night that I got her pregnant.

"I'm so sorry," I replied. I knew it was an inadequate response. I couldn't even imagine how she was feeling; I couldn't begin to imagine the stress that Jordan was dealing with, "How bad?"

"Metastasis to the brain, liver, and lymph nodes," Jordan replied in a harsh whisper. I didn't know much about medicine, but I knew that was really bad. I knew that Jordan and Calleigh would be hurt badly by the disease.

"When does he start treatment?" I asked.

"Nigel doesn't. Surgery for the brain tumor would paralyze him. Surgery for the liver tumor would cause him to bleed to death . . . he's not producing many clotting factors anymore. It's the end of the road. Neither of us knows what to do about it. Nigel doesn't want to waste away in a hospital bed; I don't want him to be in pain," Jordan replied. I pushed the bedside table away. I tried to move closer to Jordan. She noticed. She sat at the edge of my bed; I pulled her close to me. I ran my fingers down her back; she leaned over onto my chest. I tried my best to hold her as she cried. I was surprised she hadn't pulled away from me; I had expected her to pull away. I remembered what it was like to want to do absolutely anything to protect Jordan. The feelings were more intense now that Calleigh was involved. This was that first time that I knew what it felt to want to trade places with someone; I would have traded places with Nigel if it meant that Calleigh and Jordan would be happy.

"So what's next?" I asked her. I whispered. I almost didn't want to hear her answer.

"He dies," Jordan replied, "I took a leave of absence at the morgue so I could be at home. It's only going to be a matter of weeks . . . maybe four or five." She worked to compose herself. She failed miserably.

"I'm so sorry. What can I do?" I asked.

"I don't know. I don't even know what I need anymore," Jordan replied.

"Does Calleigh know?" I asked.

"No, she knows he's sick again, but I don't think she understands how sick," Jordan replied. She had quieted markedly. Her head rested against my chest. It had been so many years since I felt her skin against mine. I missed it. I missed everything about her.

"You just let me know when you need help. Let me be the one to help you," I said as I ran my fingers through her long, straight hair. It was about damn time that I said that. I should have said that nearly five years ago.

"You need to help yourself heal first. Nigel has a hospice care nurse that stops by the house daily to make sure that he's taken his meds and he's eaten. She helps me. She helps me keep him from feeling pain," Jordan choked, "Nigel is bed bound again. He doesn't walk well. Sometimes, he forgets who Calleigh and I are." I knew I needed to help myself become mobile; I had a whole new reason to do that now.

"I'll be there, Jordan. Just give me a week. When did this all start?" I asked.

"Three weeks ago. Nigel had a migraine headache. I made him go to the doctor . . . it just didn't feel right," Jordan replied as she continued to cry softly. I could hear her occasionally choke on her tears. I didn't know what else to do; I held her until she pulled away. I remember how much it hurt when Jordan pulled away from me. She was another thing that I just didn't want to let go.

"I need to get going. The hospice nurse leaves in a half hour. Take care of yourself," Jordan said as she dried her eyes.

"Take care of Calleigh and Nigel. Don't worry about me," I replied. I reached my left hand out for her. I was surprised she took it.

"I probably won't be around much anymore," Jordan said. As much as I hated to hear it, I understood.

"Don't worry about me. Go home and do what you need to. I'll be back soon enough," I replied. She dropped my hand and collected her things. She began to walk to the door.

"Woody, I don't think you've changed as much as you want to think you have," Jordan said in the seconds before she walked out the door to my room. This was the first time that I was beginning to think that I hadn't changed . . . I had just lost myself somewhere along the way.


	7. Orion in the Sky

I spent seven days fighting the limitations of my own body. I pushed myself harder than the doctors or physical therapists desired, but they couldn't argue with results. The pins came out of my leg and my arm. First, I learned to explore the world in a wheelchair, but I grew tired of the dependence on other people. By Friday, I was using a cane. My casts were replaced with braces. My mobility had been greatly restored. It hurt so much I often found myself wanting to scream, but I pushed onward.

On Wednesday, I gave in and called my brother. Cal was in Boston on Friday to take me home. My only request was that Cal take me somewhere where I could get a real meal. Cal told me that I was a moron; well, he used much more vulgar terms after I told him the extent of my stupidity. He loaded me and an extensive amount of medical equipment into a compact rental car that didn't feel much larger than the bed that I was trapped in for the entire week. He drove me home . . . an empty, half unpacked apartment on a street close to Pearle Street.

Cal unpacked my apartment. He was going to be staying for the better part of two weeks. Cal had talked his boss into giving him all his vacation days at once. Cal was a charmer; he charmed males and females alike. He had an openness about him that I never could quite master. I was jealous of that. If I had just been honest in the first place, I probably wouldn't have found myself in the position that I am today.

I told Cal about Calleigh. I told him about Nigel and Jordan. I told him that I wanted to know my daughter; I asked him if it was selfish for me to want to be a father at the expense of Nigel's death. Cal tried to reassure me that I didn't wish for Nigel to die, but part of me would always wonder if I did. Cal wanted to meet Jordan . . . he wanted to meet his niece. They were stopping by this afternoon while the hospice nurse was with Nigel.

Jordan had called me several times prior to my release from the rehabilitation facility. She said things were progressing faster than either Nigel or her expected. She said that Calleigh was hurting; she said that Calleigh would crawl in bed next to Nigel in the wee hours of the morning. Jordan would find her there every morning; every morning, Calliegh would ask Nigel to please get better. Jordan said that Calleigh had begun to ask for me; she said she wasn't sure what brought it on, but Calleigh would ask to see me. I wanted to see her so badly. The last week had been the longest week of my life.

Cal took me back to the apartment. He disappeared to find something for us to eat. I struggled to shower and change into normal clothes . . . something that didn't leave my ass exposed for the world to see. Today, would be the first day in over a month that my body would not be violated by the hands of another. It felt good to cleanse myself; I swore to myself that I would never have another sponge bath. I would never be so dependent again.

There was knocking at the door. I struggled to make it to the door in a timely fashion. I figured Cal had forgotten to grab my keys. He had always been forgetful like that.

"God, you look good," Jordan said as she hugged me. Calleigh was annoyed that she had to wait her turn. Jordan reminded her to be gentle with me.

Jordan looked so different. She looked scattered and tired. She collapsed on my couch, while I tried to sit comfortably in an arm chair. Calleigh quickly found her way on to my lap. Calleigh quickly began to tell me about school. I swore that I even heard her say that she missed me. That was all it took for me to get butterflies in my stomach and to make my heart flutter.

Cal burst through the door with two large bags of food. He said that he hoped clam chowder, fish, and chips were fine. I laughed at him for embracing New England as he did. I introduced him to Jordan and Calleigh. I could see how fascinated he was with my daughter. His eyes would glimmer the same way I imagined mine did when Calleigh was near me. Jordan helped Cal get all the food situated in the kitchen. I was pleased to have a few moments alone with Calleigh.

"My daddy is going to die," Calleigh said as she rested her head against my shoulder much as her mother did a week ago. I held her close to me. Her words weakened me. They made me want to cry for all the pain in her life.

"Your daddy is very sick. He's going to go to heaven where he won't be sick anymore," I replied. I didn't know how to say it.

"I don't want him to go. I want him to stay with me," Calleigh replied. She clung to me a little bit tighter.

"I know you don't want him to go, but he'll always be with you. From heaven, he'll be able to watch over you every second of the day," I replied as I ran my fingers through her curly chestnut hair.

"How do you know?" Calleigh asked.

"My Mom and Dad are up in heaven. My Mom was sick the same way your Dad is sick. I know she's happier now that she isn't sick anymore," I replied.

"Really?" Calleigh asked. She didn't sound at all convinced.

"Really. Do you know the story of Orion?" I asked her. She had pointed Orion out to me one night while I was still in the hospital.

"No," she replied.

"Orion was a big, strong warrior, but he was hurt badly by a scorpion," I started. This felt so right. These few moments were my favorite moments. It was like the training wheels had been taken off and I had become a father.

"Uncle Bug taught me about scorpions. They have poison," Calleigh commented with renewed interest in what I was saying.

"Well, the scorpion had poisoned Orion. Orion was very sick and couldn't fight anymore. Zeus was one of the Gods that lived in the sky. Zeus saw that Orion was sick and couldn't fight anymore, so he took Orion from Earth and put him in the sky. In the sky, Orion could never be hurt by the scorpion again. In the sky, Orion wasn't sick anymore," I said. I began to choke on the words.

"So my daddy is like Orion? He's going to be put in the sky so he's not sick anymore?" Calleigh asked. I could feel her tears wet against my chest.

"He'll never be sick again. He'll be able to always see you," I replied. I could hear Jordan crying; it was a distinct soft cry. I couldn't see her, but I hoped that Cal was comforting her. 'My girls' both needed comfort right now. I held Calleigh until she was asleep. I held her a little bit tighter in an attempt to protect her from the world. I asked Cal to take her into the bedroom so she could nap quietly. Jordan sat on the couch.

"That was really nice . . . the stuff you said to her," Jordan said as she dried her eyes. Jordan looked like she had probably needed to hear those words as much as her daughter did.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked. Jordan sat wringing her hands as if that would prevent her from crying again.

"I don't know. You know, I didn't believe you when you said that you wanted to be here for Calleigh and me. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you," Jordan replied.

"It's okay. I haven't done much lately to make you believe in me," I replied.

"I wish I would have known you like this five years ago," Jordan replied.

"I wish I would have been like this five years ago. A lot would be different," I replied, "You're tired. Why don't you go lay down next to Calleigh and take a nap?"

"Thank you, Woody," Jordan said as she stood up. She kissed my cheek. I wanted so much more than that, but that would be a long time off. I still had so much work to do to prove that Jordan never needed to doubt me again. Jordan went to rest. It looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep for weeks.

"She's beautiful, Wood," Cal said as he sat down where Jordan had been only moments ago.

"Both of them are," I replied.

"They are," Cal replied, "You've done a good thing. They'll always remember that."

Cal and I ate lunch silently. Cal handed me a handful of pills that were supposed to make me feel better; a painkiller, a muscle relaxant, an antibiotic, and an anti-depressant. The painkiller made me nauseated; the muscle relaxant made me sleep for hours on end. I didn't want to sleep until I knew Jordan and Calleigh were well rested. Cal promised to wake me up the minute either of them woke up.

Cal woke me up an hour later. He was carrying Calleigh. She was crying. Cal was desperately trying to calm her down. Cal said that Jordan was still sleeping. He placed Calleigh on my lap. I held her; that was the best I could do. I knew that was the best I could do right now. I held her until she fell back asleep; I struggled to stay awake. I struggled to take in every second. I struggled until I was overcome by sleep; my daughter still wrapped in my arms.

"Woody, Calleigh and I need to get going," Jordan whispered as she gently shook my shoulder.

"How long have I been sleeping?" I asked as I relinquished my grip on Calleigh.

"Two hours," Jordan replied as she brushed the hair off my forehead. She kissed my cheek. "We'll try to come by sometime soon."

"Thank you. Cal will walk you to your car. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you need anything," I said as I rested my hand on Jordan's arms.

"Woody, thank you. You're a great dad," Jordan said. Cal took Calleigh from her. Calleigh was heavy; far too heavy for Jordan to carry. I watched them leave; I wanted to yell for her to come back. I wanted to take care of them. It was five years later, but all those feelings that I tried to bury had come to the surface. I still loved her; I loved her more now that we had a child. I don't think that I ever loved anyone the way I loved Jordan. I remember being able to runaway from Annie with feeling like I left part of myself in Kewaunee. I ran away from Jordan and I felt like part of me was gone; I had left so much of myself with Jordan.

Seven days passed uneventfully. Cal and I established a comfortable routine. Each day seemed the same. Each day felt empty. Cal noticed my irritability; he was patient with me. He tried his hardest to anticipate what I needed much like I did for him after Dad died.

I would jump every time the telephone rang. I could feel my stomach sink to my knees every time someone knocked on the door. I immediately would think of Nigel; I would think about Calleigh and Jordan and wonder if they were okay.

The telephone call came late in the night. Cal answered the telephone and I could immediately tell from the tone of his voice that it was bad news. Dr. Macy had called late in the night. Cal and I were watching a basketball game. I was nodding off on the couch; I had found that the couch was the most comfortable place in the entire apartment. I remember the moment that Cal told me the news. I remember immediately wondering if Jordan and Calleigh were alright. I knew that they probably were not alright.

"Jordan's asking for you. Get ready . . . I'll drive you," Cal said as he pulled on a sweatshirt. I struggled to my feet; I pulled on my jacket. I firmly gripped my cane and allowed Cal to help me down the hallway to the elevator.

The ride seemed to take forever. Jordan hadn't changed much about Max's house; it was if five years had not gone by. Cal had to help me out of the compact car; for some strange reason he refused to drive my much larger sedan. Cal knocked on the door. Dr. Macy opened the door and ushered us in. He said that the funeral home came an hour ago. Nigel had passed away two hours ago.

Jordan was in the living room. She stood up when she saw me. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were puffy. She walked over to me. She wrapped her arms around my waist. Cal had to steady me; I whispered that it was going to be okay. I told her that I would take care of her. She said that she needed me. The truth was that I needed her just as much as she needed me.

Jordan told me that Calleigh needed me. Right now, she needed her father more than ever. Jordan said that Calleigh had finally fallen asleep. She asked me to stay for awhile. I told her that Cal and I would make sure that 'my girls' were taken care of. Jordan and Cal went to check on Calleigh. I tried to make my way through the maze on end tables and couches to sit down. Dr. Macy stood up to help me. Something in his face had softened.

"Make sure you take good care of her . . . take good care of both of them," Dr. Macy said, "How's your arm and leg?"

"Fine . . . I'm getting better. I'm not going anywhere . . . I don't think I could ever leave that little girl," I replied.

"Good because I don't think Jordan ever stopped loving you," Dr. Macy replied. We were interrupted by Cal and Jordan. I was glad that the uncomfortable conversation was over. I saw the way she looked at me; she was scared . . . she was tired . . . she was angry. I would have done anything to snap my fingers and make it all go away. I wanted nothing more than to make it all go away. I wished that things were that simple. I wondered why things were never simple.


	8. All Good Things Must

March gave way to April and April gave way to May. It had been ten weeks, three days, and I'm sure I would be able to figure out the minutes if given a clock since Nigel was put into the ground. He was put in a plot near to Max and Emily. From his plot you could see the St. James River winding its way through the landscape. I'll always remember that day; I'll always remember that sadness I felt for Jordan and Calleigh. I will always remember the cries of a girl that was old enough to know what was happening, but too young to understand why. I'll always remember Calleigh asking for her father; I'll always remember taking her outside in the black of night to see Orion. I was glad to see the day come to an end, but I knew that the emotions wouldn't end with that day.

I had been sleeping on the couch at Jordan's house for nine weeks. Jordan tried to manage on her own for over a week, but she said that she was tired. She said that it was too hard to always be strong for Calleigh. She admitted to only crying in the shower. Jordan stood outside my door one week and three days after Nigel's funeral. It had been raining that evening; it was the first rain of the impending spring. Her hair was plastered to her face and her shirt soaked through. Calleigh stood beside her; Calleigh had been well-taken care of, but her mother was too tired to take care of herself. I let them in; Calleigh and I went to get coffee and hot chocolate while Jordan showered. I'd later ask Jordan why she came to me; she said Garrett was working and Bug and Lilly had a newborn in the house. She said that she needed me. It was a momentary lapse in her normal stoic façade. I wasn't sure why she needed to keep justifying her decision to let me in. I was sad that she felt that was something she needed to do.

I drove them home late in the night. Jordan needed to carry Calleigh into the house; my braces prevented me from being able to walk freely. It would take time for my bones to heal just as it would take time for Jordan and Calleigh to heal. Jordan asked me to stay; I fell asleep on the couch. The next morning, I made breakfast and took Calleigh to school. Jordan slept late into the afternoon. She woke up thinking the last few months were a dream. I held her while she cried. I went home only to pack an overnight bag; I didn't realize that overnight meant that I would be staying there indefinitely.

I went back to work two weeks later. I was shoved behind a desk; I essentially pushed papers around for eight hours a day. I would be stuck behind my desk for up to six months; I had hours of physical therapy in front of me. In the future, I would also have to prove that was physically and mentally fit to be carrying a gun and working out in the field. I had been to the shooting range once; the sound of gunfire made my heart race. I was often exhausted during the day; I would wake up the second I heard Calleigh cry. Calleigh knew that I didn't move fast; she would often crawl out of her bed and come to find me. She would tell me about her nightmares. I asked why she didn't tell Jordan; Calleigh said that the nightmares were too sad . . . she didn't want to make her mother even more sad.

Jordan's nightmares were so much more torturous than her daughter's. Jordan would wake up in the middle of the night wondering what would have happened if she insisted that Nigel see one more specialist or what would have happened if they tried the new treatments. I often had to remind Jordan that Nigel didn't want to suffer. Jordan said that she missed him. One night not too long after I had taken up residence on her couch, Jordan woke me up at three in the morning asking to hear the story about Orion. I told her the story and wound up falling asleep at the kitchen table as we talked about Nigel. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but my medications often got the best of me.

As spring began to fade into summer there were a variety of new things to experience; Jordan and I attended school plays, dance recitals, and Calleigh's 'graduation ceremony.' I was there to catch every second on video. Dr. Macy and I often traded barbs as we each tried to line up the perfect shot of the most beautiful ballerina we had ever seen. The warm day in June when Calleigh graduated from the early childhood classes to grade school classes, I gave her a locket. It was similar to the one Emily had so many years ago. The locket contained one picture . . . Nigel; I wanted to make sure that Calleigh always had her 'daddy' with her. The outside of the locket was a smooth gold with tiny diamonds placed in a random pattern. They reminded me of Orion . . . they reminded me of Calleigh. I hadn't intended to walk passed a jewelry store and walk out a little poorer, but the locket was in the store front window. I saw it and thought of her. There were a lot of things I saw that for some reason or another made me think of my daughter.

"Hey, I thought I would find you out here," Jordan said as she snuck up behind me. She always took me by surprise; Jordan would often startle me. She would always snicker at the response she got out of me.

"You know if you are going to stare at the stars like that, you should start learning more stories about what you are looking at," Jordan said as she sat next to me. It was late in the evening; Calleigh had been sleeping for hours. Sleep didn't come as easy for me. I had become conditioned to stay up late into the night in anticipation of nightmares, but those days were slowly fading. Now, I stayed up to think.

"I suppose," I replied. Jordan slid a little closer to me; she rested her head on my shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"You should just move in. It's ridiculous that you are paying rent for a place that you never go to anymore," Jordan replied. I had contemplated going back to my apartment, but I always drove to Jordan's house after work. I would often do this subconsciously. I didn't realize where I was until I pulled into the driveway.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yah, you're a man of few words tonight. Are you tired?" Jordan asked.

"No, just thinking," I replied.

"About?" Jordan asked.

"Well, wouldn't you love to know," I kidded. Jordan sat up and lightly slapped my back. She began to laugh when I pretended that she had indeed mortally wounded me. She laughed so rarely. I don't think I had ever really listened to her laugh before. It was musical against a background of crickets and the gentle humming of the radio that was on in the kitchen. It was beautiful; it was one of the most beautiful sounds that I had ever heard.

"You should come in and go to bed," Jordan said as she stood up . . . still smiling.

"Not tired," I replied. It wasn't all that convincing since I had yawned as I was talking.

"Are you already having second thoughts about moving in? You don't think it's too soon, do you?" Jordan asked as she quickly sat back down next to me. Those were precisely the things that I was thinking about. As magical as the last few months had been, I wondered if the transition between 'guy that sleeps on the couch' and 'guy that lives there and still sleep on the couch' was being made too quickly. I wondered what the neighbors would think; I wondered what Jordan's co-workers would think. It was first time in a long that I really cared about what people thought of me. I took as a sign of the changes to come. I was getting better; I was no longer crippled by the depression . . . I was no longer as hardened as I was in Milwaukee. I started to feel whole again.

"Is it too soon?" I asked. Jordan furrowed her eyebrows annoyed that I had asked her a question in return.

"I don't know. I don't know if I'd be able to let you leave . . . I don't know if I could do this by myself," Jordan replied. I knew she was wrong; I knew that she was strong enough to be able to be a single mother. I knew I wouldn't let her be a single mother, but Jordan was so much stronger than she thought she was.

"We might want to give it some time. Let's not rush into things. Let's not make the mistakes that we did last time and the time before that," I replied. I did want to do this right; I wasn't going to waste my third, fourth, or, maybe even, fifth chance. I was ready to be patient; six years ago I wasn't this patient . . . I pushed Jordan when she wasn't ready . . . I tried to make her commit when all Jordan could do was run. This time, I wouldn't push.

"You're probably right, but who's going to help with carpool?" Jordan asked. I wanted to laugh even though I knew that she was being completely serious.

"I'm going back to my apartment . . . I'm not running. You just need to call when you need me," I replied as I wrapped an arm around her.

"Are you planning to have your cell phone surgically attached to your hand?"

"You can do this. If anyone can handle a household, you can . . . God knows, you never let me be the one in charge," I replied. Jordan laughed.

"So how long do we wait?"

"We'll know when it's right," I replied.

I went back to my apartment for seven months. I still attended piano recitals, dance recitals, and school plays. I felt my presence declining the moment I was sent out into the field. I worked long hours; Jordan had begun to work part-time with Dr. Macy's blessing. I still had certain responsibilities in Jordan's home; I had become a 24/7 handyman . . . I had become the designated carpool 'mom' on Thursday evenings when Jordan had to work the evening. I loved every moment of it.

I didn't move in with Jordan and Calleigh until seven months after the night Jordan and I spent looking at the stars. On Mondays, I had fallen into the comfortable routine of going to work and going over to Jordan's for supper. The morning was rather unremarkable, but in the early afternoon, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun held by an eighteen year old accused of shooting a sixteen year old in cold blood. In those moments, all I could think of was what I would leave behind. I would leave behind a beautiful daughter and a woman that I loved more than I thought I ever could. I quit my job that evening. I found myself standing on Jordan's doorstep just needing to know that 'my girls' were both safe. Jordan asked me to stay. I packed up my apartment and took up residence on the couch for a week until Jordan asked me to share her bed.

I became a stay-at-home-dad for three months. I helped with homework; I learned to cook more than spaghetti. I was there for Calleigh's sick days and Jordan's bout of pneumonia that had me scared to death. I loved every moment of my time with them.

I took a job as head of security with a large biomedical engineering firm. The job was in no way as glamorous as being a detective, but I would never stare down the barrel of a gun again. I worked days and spent the evenings with Calleigh and Jordan. I had never been happier.

Jordan and I married two years later. Calleigh was six years old . . . nearly seven. Before asking Jordan to marry me, I asked Calleigh if she thought her mom would like to have me as her husband. Calleigh promptly asked me if she would get to pick out a dress to wear for the wedding. Jordan and I were married on a beach in Barbados with Cal, Dr. Macy, and Calleigh by our sides. Eighteen months later, Jordan and I welcomed Lydia Marie into the world. Five years later, I officially adopted my own daughter. As much as it pained me, Calleigh would always believe that Nigel was her father.

Our lives were a quiet existence. Our lives revolved around each other. My hardest days were those when I realized that Calleigh and Lydia were all grown up. I'll always remember prom dresses and homecoming dresses; I'll always remember wishing that the dresses contained more fabric. Jordan joked that I would send them to prom in burlap sacks if I had the choice. I'll always remember the look on their boyfriends' faces when I told them the consequences of not treating my daughters like ladies.

I'll never forget the day that Calleigh left for college. I'll never forget what it felt like to leave her at the dormitory at Brown. She promised to call; she promised to visit. Jordan and I looked forward to her visits, but we always wished that they came more frequently. The day that Lydia left for college in Hawaii I felt my heart break into a million pieces. She was going to be a marine biologist; Lydia never listened when I told her that there were plenty of marine creatures in the neighboring ocean. She laughed and told me not to worry so much. Jordan cried when the plane took off; Jordan promised to never tell Lydia that I had also cried on the warm August morning.

Jordan and I were married for forty years. We had forty wonderful years together before I woke up on cold February morning to an even colder body in my arms. My girls took care of me for four additional years until I would too meet my maker. I remember my daughter sitting around my bed telling me that I would always be with them as long as Orion was still in the sky. With that my tired body left them to be with my wife in good health that I hadn't felt since my first stroke.

I look back at my life and wish I hadn't wasted time, but I also look back not wanting to change a thing.


End file.
